


Some Complications

by Aaymeirah



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angels, Aziraphale's Trial, Banter, Beelzebub is done with everyone's shit, Beginning of Ineffable Bureaucracy if you squint, Crowley's Trial, Demons, Gabriel just wants someone to tell him what to do, Gen, Heaven, Hell, Now let's see what the angels and demons have to say, POV Alternating, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Snark, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), Working together for a common goal, You've got the mock trials from Aziraphale and Crowley's persepctive, damage control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 18:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20376010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaymeirah/pseuds/Aaymeirah
Summary: Beelzebub stalked towards the four angels waiting on the other side of the airstrip, flanked by Dagon and Hastur.“This better be good,” they hissed, crossing their arms.“Angels,” Dagon cursed at their approach.“Demons,” retorted Uriel.“We need to set aside our differences for a moment. There are bigger things to focus on,” said Michael, moderator for this meeting.“Like what?” sneered Hastur.“The Apocalypse, or the lack thereof you idiot,” responded Gabriel.“Be civil.” Micheal gave Gabriel a warning glance.“Fine, I’ll get to the point. It seems that the Final Battle and the subsequent destruction of Earth might not exactly be what God wants.”





	Some Complications

Gabriel closed his eyes and allowed his corporation to temporarily dissolve as he went back to Heaven, badly shaken.  
A battle between the forces of Heaven and Hell might not be part of the Ineffable plan? This skewed his whole worldview.  
Gabriel had quite literally spent his whole existence since the First War with the knowledge that a- what was that human term? Rematch. Yes. A rematch was in the works, one side triumphing (obviously Heaven) all part of God’s Great Plan. But if Great Plans could be different from Ineffable ones… maybe their respective Earth agents had a point.  
By the time Gabriel materialized once more, leather shoes meeting the shining floor of Heaven’s large gathering area, he had tentatively accepted the fact that for now, the Apocalypse had to be called off. (Try telling that to battle-ready angels ready to smite the forces of darkness.)

-

As Beelzebub returned to Hell, they adjusted their fly-eyed hat as they scowled fiercely. Those traitors had thrown a wrench in their plan and someone had to be notified. When they materialized on the podium where Dagon was still leading the demons in a stupid chant, silence fell.  


“Is it time?” Dagon asked eagerly, rotted teeth exposed in a feral grin of anticipation.  


“Get those demons to shut up,” they growled as they stalked off the podium and into the creaky lift that would take them to the lower levels of Hell.

-

“I need to talk to the head office,” Gabriel told Michael, Sandalphon, and Uriel who crowded around him, thinking they would receive the signal to join their respective heavenly regiments.  


“Why? We have our orders. The Apocalypse is happening, and we will triumph!” Michael asked, heavenly armor glinting in Heaven’s bright, ambient light.  


“You mean God will triumph,” Uriel corrected.  


“Of course.”  


“Sandalphon, I need to talk to the Metatron.”  


“Meta’s not in a good mood, it’s not pleasant having an angel unprepared for transport to pass through the same communication channel one is using,” Sandalphon smiled nervously.  


“Just give us the signal to start the War,” Michael’s normally stoic and composed appearance was illuminated with fervor.  


“About that,” Gabriel held up a calming hand, “I believe we might need to postpone the Apocalypse,” he flashed them his usual wide-mouthed smile, hand now ever so slightly brushing against the end of his scarf, subtly betraying nervousness.  


“I beg your pardon?” said the Quartermaster, looking up from his account book and inspection of the Heavenly troops with an expression of utter scandal on his face.  


“Sandalphon. Metatron. Now.” Gabriel hissed.  


“Fine, fine.”

-

LORD BEELZEBUB, Satan stated flatly, marred humanoid form lounging on a couch watching a soul writhing in pain as burning sulfur was slowly shoved into her ears.  


“Dark Lord,” Beelzebub responded.  


YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL ME, SOMETHING IMPORTANT BUT UNPLEASANT.  


“The Antichrist, your son I might add, is refusing to start the Apocalypse.”  


WHAT DID YOU SAY, WRETCH? Satan demanded furiously. Internally, Beelzebub rolled their eyes, they were only marginally less powerful than Satan, and he had no call lording the fact that he started the Glorious Revolution over them. Best get it over with.  


“The Antichrist doesn’t want the world to end. He doesn’t want to rule it. The four horsepersons of the Apocalypse have been discorporated by human children. The angel Aziraphale and the demon Crowley have pointed out that because of this, maybe having the Apocalypse is only what we think the ineffable plan is when we could be doing the opposite.”  


I CARE NOTHING FOR GOD’S PLANS.  


“Well, you might have a care for your plans because the Antichrist is proving to be very uncooperative.” Beelzebub was only pointing out the facts. Satan’s face twisted into a snarl of pure, unbridled rage. His humanoid form bubbled out from the inside, growing large boils that broke, showing the empty innards of that form. Skin twisted and enlarged, horns sprouted, and eyes morphed. Beelzebub managed to smirk at seeing Satan transform into humanity’s vision of what the devil himself looked like. (At least what the Antichrist thought he looked like)  


I GO TO CLAIM MY SON BUT DO NOT THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN YOUR INSOLENCE.  


“Shoot the messenger why don’t you?” Beelzebub muttered angrily, crossing their arms across their chest.  


FOR NOW, IT IS YOUR TASK, MY CHIEF DEMON, TO CALM THE MASSES OF THE DAMNED.  
Beelzebub sighed.

-

ARCHANGEL GABRIEL. The Metatron’s large head floated gently in the radiant light. I SPEAK FOR GOD, TO SPEAK TO ME IS TO SPEAK TO GOD  


“Well, there seems to be some complications down on earth. The Antichrist is refusing to start the Apocalypse and Aziraphale just pointed out that maybe because of the way things have played out, that having the apocalypse right now would not be part of the ineffable plan. But that can’t be right, right? The Apocalypse is the plan so that Heaven can triumph once and for all.”  


INEFFABLE IS USED TO DESCRIBE SOMETHING THAT CANNOT BE EXPRESSED IN WORDS. IT IS NOT FOR GOD’S CREATIONS TO QUESTION THE INEFFABLE PLAN. MERELY TO HAVE FAITH. The Metatron smiled benevolently at Gabriel.  


“So, is the Apocalypse happening right now? Do we fight the demons?” asked Gabriel, at a loss without clear orders. The Metatron merely winked and disappeared.  
Gabriel turned to his fellow Archangels.  


“What now?” Sandalphon asked.  


“We stand down. Can’t risk destroying God’s pet creation if it’s not part of God’s plan,” Gabriel said slowly.  


“But ten million angels are in war footing!” Michael protested.  


“This is going to be a bureaucratic nightmare,” Uriel agreed.  


“We can’t stand down unless the forces of Hell do so as well.” Gabriel steepled his hand together in thought.  


“Perhaps we should arrange a meeting with representatives from hell?” Sandalphon proposed. They all looked at him, surprised.  


“You know what Sandalphon, that’s not a bad idea.” Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder and Sandalphon flashed a gold-toothed smile. “If the Head office won’t give a clear answer and it’s the same Below, we’ll have to take matters into our own hands.”  


Michael made a show of considering this, “I’ll arrange it. But Gabriel, since this is your idea, you should probably be the one to tell the angels to stand down,” Michael modified, smiling vindictively.

-

MAKE THE DEMONS STAND DOWN, THE APOCALYPSE IS CALLED OFF FOR NOW. Satan’s voice resounded in Beelzebub’s skull without preamble as they made their way up to the mustering ground for all the demonic forces. (Sounds like someone’s in a hellishly bad mood.)  


“Demons of Hell, back to work, it was a false alarm. The Apocalypse is not happening right now.” Beelzebub raised their voice, miracle-ing it just enough so that everyone could hear them.  


“What do you mean?” squawked Dagon.  


“I mean that the apocalypse is called off, for now, you idiot.”  


“But-” Dagon was interrupted by angry voices coming from the disorganized mob of ten million demons.  


“Dagon here promised us revenge against those bloody angels!”  


“I want the day off work!”  


“No fair! We’ve been waiting for ages for this.”  


“I want angel blood.”  


“This is Hell you fool! We are all traitors here, so why are you lot surprised that you’ve been given a false promise?” said Beelzebub.  


“Why was it called off?” asked Dagon. The demons would riot if they had no one to blame. If they knew the truth. Beelzebub scowled as they thought, then smiled as a perfectly devilish idea occurred to them.  


“One of our own, the demon Crowley, has betrayed us! He messed up the delivery of the Antichrist and as a result, Satan’s son refused to start the apocalypse.”  


“Crowley! I should have known,” spat Dagon.  


“But wait, there is more. He was working with,” Beelzebub paused for dramatic effect, “an angel!” Gasps of outrage echoed. Their small minds diverted form thwarted angelic blood-lust to outrage at a fellow demon working with the enemy.  


“Really?” asked Dagon.  


“Do you think I would lie about something like this?” responded Beelzebub in exasperation.  


“Well, you have sort of lied about the Apocalypse.”  


“Shut up. You are Lord of the Files are you not? Go check them for all the times Crowley said he thwarted Aziraphale. Then compilecomplie a list we can use for evidence during the trial. for for dam”  


“Fine.” Dagon looked at the angry demons nervously.  


“Back to work I say!” Beelzebub yelled. “The traitor who is responsible for thwarting Armageddon will be dealt with, as an example to all.” The demons cheered and slowly dispersed under the fearsome force of Beelzebub’s glare.

-

“Hello. Quartermaster, right?” Gabriel leaned down ever so slightly to look him in the eye.  


“Yes.”  


“You need to stop all this war outfitting. Like now.”  


“But all the angels are ready to fight for the Glory of God!”  


“As you overheard before, there have been some complications with regards to the Apocalypse, the Final Battle and so on.”  


“Such as?” the Clerk asked in affront, facial hair practically quivering with outrage.  


“It needs to be canceled. Just for now of course.”  


“But why?”  
Gabriel considered this carefully, he couldn’t possibly tell the Clerk about what had happened, (much too lowly) but he also didn’t want to lie. “Aziraphale was too effective in stopping the Antichrist, so much so that he refuses to start the Apocalypse.”  


“That miserable excuse for an angel was here recently, he went back to earth without a corporation rambling about being able to possess someone like a demon! Refused to fight.”  


“I know. It appears that he was working with the demon Crowley to stop Armageddon!” said Gabriel.  


“Why would anyone want that?”  


“He has gone native. Sided with Earth. Regardless, all the angels need to go back to their normal existence because the Final Battle isn’t happening.”  


“I don’t like this,” muttered the Quartermaster.  


“You don’t have to like this, you just have to ensure that the angels step down from their war footing. This is a direct order from your ranking superior.” Generally, Gabriel didn’t like to pull rank, he found it much too human-like, what with their skewed sense of authority and general impudence, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.  


“If you say so.” Gabriel did not appreciate the skepticism, but he had bigger problems to worry about.

-

Beelzebub stalked towards the four angels waiting on the other side of the airstrip, flanked by Dagon and Hastur.  


“This better be good,” they hissed, crossing their arms.  


“Angels,” Dagon cursed at their approach.  


“Demons,” retorted Uriel.  


“We need to set aside our differences for a moment. There are bigger things to focus on,” said Michael, moderator for this meeting.  


“Like what?” sneered Hastur.  


“The Apocalypse, or the lack thereof you idiot,” responded Gabriel.  


“Be civil.” Micheal gave Gabriel a warning glance.  


“Fine, I’ll get to the point. It seems that the Final Battle and the subsequent destruction of Earth might not exactly be what God wants.”  


“Satan himself told me that we had to stop preparations for beating you lot.” Beelzebub offered.  


“In that case, can this be a situation of we’ll step down if you step down?” asked Gabriel.  


“I don’t know, will you step down?” retorted Beelzebub.  


“Will you?” They glared at each other, challenging.  


“Fine, I’ll call off the angels.” Gabriel finally said.  


“I’ll do the same for the demons.”  


“But Beelzebub, you’ve already told them to go back to work,” Hastur helpfully pointed out.  


“Shut up,” they growled.  


“Gabriel did the same you know,” Sandalphon offered.  


“Not the right time Sandalphon,” said Gabriel out of the corner of his mouth.  


“Right then, we won’t have the Final Battle now.”  


“Forget this ever happened?”  


“We will if you will.”  


“Not this again,” muttered Uriel.  


“It’s probably for the best,” said Gabriel and Beelzebub at the same time. That coincidence broke down some tension between the two groups and postures visibly loosened up.  


“How did you get the demons to stand down?” Sandalphon ventured to ask. Beelzebub smiled rather nastily.  


“I directed their anger elsewhere.”  


“Where?”  


“At the demon whose treachery brought about these circumstances, such that us demons now don’t get to crunch you lot beneath our boots. Crowley.”  


“Oh, I did the same towards Aziraphale,” said Gabriel.  


“Those two have gone native.”  


“Aziraphale refused to fight.”  


“Crowley bungled up the delivery of the Antichrist.”  


“Aziraphale uses miracles for the most frivolous of things.”  


“Crowley hardly ever does a temptation fitting to a demon.” They looked at each other appraisingly.  


“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Gabriel.  


“What are you thinking?” Beelzebub said after a long-suffering sigh.  


“Dismissing our respective armies will not be good for PR and think of all the paperwork! Better by far to have someone take the fall. Metaphorically speaking,” Gabriel hastened to add.  


“An example must be made,” Beelzebub began to smile.  


“Something permanent and effective,” said Gabriel.  


“Why, I never thought that an angel could be so…ruthless,” Beelzebub smiled, showing all their teeth.  


“It’s for the Greater Good,” Gabriel offered as justification.  


“Oh, I was thinking more along the lines of practicality, control, and punishment.”  


“How demonic of you.”  


“Thanks.”  


“If you two are done fraternizing, can you please just state outright what you both are implying? I’m getting tired of smelling Hastur,” Uriel added.  


“Fraternizing?” spat Beelzebub, turning to Uriel and sending one of their flies zooming towards the offending Angel. Uriel took one step backward.  


“At least bantering,” Dagon added thoughtfully, pleased to see Beelzebub off-balanced.  


“Stop fighting, we can all be done with this onerous affair if we get to the point,” Michael commanded.  


“Ha! Heaven’s best warrior counseling peace!” Hastur clapped hands together in unholy glee.  


“I’m trying to hasten things along here.”  


“Alright, alright.”  


“I propose that we make an example of Crowley and Aziraphale,” started Beelzebub.  


“And how, pray tell?” asked Uriel.  


“Huh, the first time an angel has prayed to me,” Beelzebub commented. Uriel made an aborted move of aggression towards Beelzebub, “anyways. I think that Crowley should be executed and you lot should do the same for Aziraphale. A serious example will be made so that others will know not to interfere with the plans of Heaven and Hell. It will also spend thwarted passions on the execution instead of getting mad at the administration for not getting to fight the enemy.” The angels blanched at this blatant statement of intent. It was all well and good when the dark implication was only an implication. But now that it was spoken, in the light of the sun of a planet which had just narrowly missed complete annihilation, its gravity became tangible.  


“An angel hasn’t been destroyed since the First War,” said Sandalphon.  


“Well, a demon has. Ligur. Crowley killed him. One of his kind! That alone should make him worthy of destruction,” retorted Hastur, black eyes growing distant with a horrifying memory.  


“See? Yet another reason,” Beelzebub said.  


“I know, I know. This does seem like the only viable course of action,” said Gabriel, holding up his hands.  


“Is everyone in agreement then? We’ll postpone the apocalypse indefinitely and execute Crowley and Aziraphale?” Dagon asked eagerly, already imagining the lovely sounds Crowley would make as he melted in the one substance that could kill a demon permanently.  


“I don’t like it,” muttered Sandalphon. Uriel nodded ever so slightly. Michael stared into the middle distance.  


“Someone has to take the fall,” Michael said at length, mind made up, “shall we plan?”

-

“You lot look ridiculous,” Uriel said to Dagon, Hastur and some generic demons in their human park-goer getups.  


“Same to you. Besides, you’re the ones planning to quote the Sound of Music when you apprehend your traitor,” Hastur smiled nastily.  


“It’s a good musical!” Sandalphon protested. “Good songs, nice, wholesome message.”  


“How angelic of you,” Dagon sneered.  


“Well, I am an angel.” Sandalphon adjusted the buckle of the bright yellow overalls.  


“That is a good point,” pointed out a generic demon.  


“Shut up,” snapped Hastur and Dagon at the same time.  


“Fine.” At that moment, a shiver passed through angels and demons alike.  


“Death has arrived. Positions everyone,” Uriel announced solemnly. They scattered, debates about musicals forgotten in the place of a much more- enjoyable activity.

-

“What kind of demon says tickety-boo?” Hastur asked Dagon as the generic demons carried Crowley’s limp corporation, just beginning to wake up, through the halls of hell.  


“How should I know? He’s gone native,” answered Dagon.  


“What does tickety-boo even mean?” asked a generic demon.  


“It means shut-up,” Dagon replied, fed up with these lesser demons and their impertinence. Perhaps torturing some would be a nice way to relax after the trial.  


“Huh. If you ask me, shut-up seems much more effective,” Hastur said thoughtfully.  


“Oh for the hate of Satan,” muttered Dagon.

-

Gabriel smiled broadly at Sandalphon and Uriel who joined him as he walked towards the chair where Aziraphale was confined.  


“Are you ready for this?” he asked.  


“Of course. The traitor must be made an example of,” replied Uriel, mind made up and unchanging. Admirable qualities in an angel.  


“Right then, our associate should be here soon with the hellfire,” Gabriel said the last word hurriedly as if merely the thought of it burned his mouth.  


“Head office approves of this, right?” asked Sandalphon.  


“Of course it does,” Gabriel said at the same time that Uriel replied, “They haven’t said we couldn’t.”  


“Right then.”  
Gabriel led the way towards the chair and the wayward angel. He had an execution to run.

-

Beelzebub was bored with this whole process already. They understood that it was necessary. An example needed to be made to keep hell in line, from boiling over into all the bureaucratic messiness that came of demons refusing to do their jobs and mope about. On their left stood Dagon, eager to see Crowley’s destruction. On their right, more motivated and animated than ever since Ligur’s death, stood Hastur.  


“The trial of the demon Crowley, beginning with the evidence and ending in utter oblivion is now in session,” Beelzebub announced this as if it was normal. As if they weren’t destroying someone as opposed to painfully torturing someone for eons. (Usual punishment for demons who merited it)  


“All Rise.”  


“Bring in the traitor,” they announced, flies idly buzzing around their head as they slumped into the too-big judgment seat. The ‘trial’ was now in session.

-

Gabriel, Uriel, and Sandalphon waited impatiently to see Azirapahle being destroyed in soul blackening agony.  


Nothing happened.  


Why wasn’t Azirapahle being immolated? Consumed by the one substance that could permanently destroy the very soul of an angel? Panicked thoughts went through Gabriel’s head as he saw a devilish smile appear on Aziraphale’s face and heard vertebrae cracking as his neck cracked, corporation enjoying the flames. His smile froze on his face. This endeavor was a grave mistake. Aziraphale opened his mouth and with madly twinkling eyes, blew a great spout of flame towards them. Instinctively cowering away from the dangerous flames, Gabriel pushed his fellow archangels behind him and quickly grabbed hold of Sandalphon’s hand. (Something he would never actually admit happened.)  


“Release him,” Gabriel commanded, his ever-present smile pasted on his face as a desperate shield against the truth of what he had just seen.  


“Thank you. Now, if you would kindly send me back to Earth, we can put this whole unpleasant business behind us,” said Aziraphale, moving things along quickly now that he wasn’t stalling the death sentence he knew he could survive. With that, Aziraphale casually stepped out of the maelstrom of hellfire to approach the three Archangels. They back away even further.  


“Right. Yes. Uriel, Sandalphon, escort Aziraphale to Earth portal #3.” They nodded and hesitatingly gestured for Aziraphale to follow them. Gabriel was left alone with hell’s contact.  


“What are you looking at? Take this hellfire away, it has sullied heaven enough as is,” said Gabriel to the cat-eared demon. “And tell Beelzebub I want a meeting with them.” The demon nodded, evidently eager to get out of heaven, and with a gesture of his hands, the hellfire receded into sullenly burning coals, which he then placed in a sack.

-

Anger warred with shock as Crowley splashed around in the tub of Holy Water. Impudently asking for rubber ducks, threatening the watching demons with sizzling drops of that deadly substance and worst of all- refusing to die.  


“So now you’re probably thinking, If he can do this, what else could he do? And very very soon, you’re all going to get the chance to find out.” Crowley said confidently. Beelzebub could only nod in horrified shock. A demon who could withstand holy water? Never had another fallen done such a thing! It was one of the consequences of the fall, its pure holiness burning away the very essence of a demon’s tainted soul. For Crowley to be able to withstand this...whole policies would have to be re-written!  


“He’s bluffing.”  


“We can take him.” Dagon and Hastur protested, eyes wide at the sight they all were witnessing.  


“One demon against the rest of Hell?”  


“What’s he going to do?”  


“Shut it!” Beelzebub commanded. “Get him out of here, this will cause a riot.”  


“What are you all looking at? Nothing to see!” Beelzebub yelled this at the crowd of watching demons, already flinching from the speckles of holy water on the glass. The elevator to the specially prepared execution room dinged and Michael stepped out, brightly white against the dampness of Hell. The empty crystal pitcher in Michael’s hands trembled as the archangel said;  


“I came to bring back the oh, Lord!” Despite the gravity of the situation, Beelzebub smirked internally at seeing the normally composed Archangel off balance.  


“Michael! Dude, do us a quick miracle, will you? I need a bath towel.” So shocked was Micheal, that a white, perfectly fluffed towel materialized and was handed over to the frustratingly hard to kill traitor. Crowley smirked and stepped out, casually drying himself off. Beelzebub could feel their self shrinking back along with Dagon and Hastur from Crowley and the lingering wetness of the holy water on his skin.  


“I think it would be better for everyone if I were left alone in the future. Don’t you?” Crowley smiled. Beelzebub could only nod. To Hell with the consequences of that action! They wanted Crowley gone before he caused more trouble.  


“Right.”  
As Crowley got dressed once more, Beelzebub growled at the watching demons.  


“Nothing to see here! Back to work.” The demons cowered away but remained watching.  


“Leave this place de- Crowley. Now,” Beelzebub ordered him.  


“Gladly,” Crowley smiled and placed his sunglasses on his face in a practiced motion, “won’t be seeing you around then.”  


“Get out,” snarled Hastur. Dagon’s grip on Hastur’s shoulder was the only thing keeping the angry, bewildered Duke of Hell from physically attacking Crowley. Crowley raised his hands, placating, then offered a mocking salute before leaving the room unaccompanied.  


“I said scram,” Beelzebub yelled at the few remaining denizens of Hell watching the drama unfold, they sighed in frustration, “Michael, what is the meaning of this?”  


“How should I know, demon?”  


“The Archangel Gabriel wants to meet with you, my most horrible Lord, An angel withstood Hellfire,” a generic demon panted as he came rushing into the execution chamber, looking worried and brandishing a sack full of hellishly smoldering coals.  


“Does he now?” Beelzebub hummed in thought. “Well, obviously more damage control is necessary, and that miserable Archangel needs to answer for this bad idea.”  


“But my Lord. You proposed it,” Dagon pointed out.  


“Tickety-boo,” Hastur hissed, elbowing Dagon.  


“But he implied it first,” Beelzebub snarled, standing up with enough force to make their too-big judgment seat move back an inch.  


“Get me a meeting with him, wank-wings,” they said to Michael. Still shaken by Crowley’s actions, Michael nodded and strode out of the execution chamber. Beelzebub soon followed.

-

“You aren’t seriously going to use that instead of shut up. Right?” Dagon muttered.  


“It’ll help me blend in with the humans on my next temptation run.”  


“It seems that the loss of Ligur has made you even more stupid than usual. He was the smart one after all.”  


“Don’t be mean.”  


“I’m a demon, what do you expect?” Dagon waltzed off, leaving Hastur alone in the execution chamber.

-

“So, both Aziraphale and Crowley withstood Hellfire and Holy Water,” Gabriel announced, hands in pockets and bouncing rather nervously on the balls of his feet. He was alone with Beelzebub on some human playground. Why the demon chose this place to meet, he didn’t know, but there were more important things to think about. Like damage control.  


“Speak the obvious why don’t you?”  


“Aziraphale demanded that we leave him alone. I’m inclined to agree with that. He’s caused enough trouble and dissent.”  


“The same for Crowley.”  


“This whole apocalypse debacle is going to be a PR nightmare that will last for at least a century.”  


“More than that, although Dagon will have a field day. Unless-”  


“What?”  


“We just pretend this never happened, just like the averted apocalypse.”  


“Easy enough. Though Michael did say you tried to have a public execution.”  


“With the right persuasion, everything can be conveniently forgotten.”  


“True.”  


“So is that it? We just dismiss all this and leave those two alone?”  


“Yeah,” Beelzebub said, idly petting a small fly which landed on their hand, “why aren’t you leaving?” Gabriel opened his mouth and closed it, a good question. Why did he feel as if there was unfinished business between the two of them? Why wasn’t he leaving the presence of his longstanding-enemy as soon as immediate business was dealt with?  


“It’s strange, this cooperation and coordination between Heaven and Hell,” Gabriel said.  


“Just business,” Beelzebub replied.  


“But it was so- painless.”  


“Painless? I believe that we have quite different ideas of painless,” Beelzebub said, exasperated.  


“I mean, it wasn’t that revolting or difficult to work with you demons.”  


“And my skin hasn’t shriveled in the presence of you angels.”  


“That’s good.”  


“That my skin hasn’t shriveled? How nice of you.”  


“Well,” Gabriel straightened his coat, “I am an angel.”  


“Not like I’ll forget that anytime soon,” snorted Beelzebub.  


“Right then. See you around?”  


“If necessary.” Beelzebub bowed mockingly. “It was not a pleasure doing business with you. Lot. You lot I mean.” With that Beelzebub disappeared in a puff of purple light. Gabriel hesitated a moment before heading back to heaven using the same method.  
Michael, Sandalphon and Uriel were gathered around a viewing hatch that they guiltily flicked off when Gabriel approached, but not before he caught a glimpse of the human playground he was just at.  


“You know Gabriel,” Michael said with a smirk, “I think the Prince of Hell just complimented you. I mean us.”  


“Do shut up Michael,” Gabriel said in reply. Michael merely smiled benignly.  


They all had work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the dialogue from the trial scenes is taken directly from the TV series for continuity purposes. 
> 
> Come yell with me about Good Omens and fanfiction @ aaymeirah-writes.tumblr.com and/or use that lovely comment box to give a writer some encouragement.


End file.
